Her Fathers' Sins
by lizzington95
Summary: Roy Mustang wasn't the only apprentice Master Hawkeye had. A former student turns up in Central looking for his Flame Alchemy research and things take a turn for the worse when he can't get his hand on it. Some Royai other pairings may occur later on. rated T for safety, may re-reate later on.
1. Chapter 1

Like many such things it had started off innocently enough; with a letter. Riza had just fed her dog, Black Hayate when the innocent looking envelope flopped through her letter box with the usual jumble of bills and junk mail. She read it as she drank her tea, startled to see it was from an old apprentice of her fathers'.

Dear Miss Hawkeye,

My name is Jonathan Eastwood. I don't know if you remember but I was once a student of your father. I recently finished my degree in alchemy and am about to start my doctorate in elemental alchemy. I am writing to enquire if you know what happened to your fathers' research after his death. As you know, he was the foremost expert in flame alchemy and the chance to incorporate his work into my thesis would be very much appreciated. Please contact me if you are aware of where his research is.

Yours sincerely,

Jonathan Eastwood

Riza sighed and patted Hayate on the head  
"This is going to cause trouble Hayate", she muttered as she shrugged on her greatcoat. After a moments indecision she grabbed the letter as she left for work. Mustang would almost certainly have an opinion about Jonathan writing to her after such a long time and it was as much his secret as hers after all.

Lieutenant Hawkeye didn't get a moment alone with the Colonel until lunchtime. Watching carefully as the door shut behind Havoc, she dug the letter from her purse and placed it on his desk with the next set of files.  
"Hawkeye, you seem to have given me your mail."  
"This particular letter concerns you as well, sir. I thought you might have an opinion on the matter."  
With a curious glance at his stoic lieutenant, Mustang read through the letter. Twice.  
"Have you replied yet?"  
"I only received it this morning sir. And, well . . . I'm not entirely sure what I should say"  
Mustang ran a hand through his mop of messy black hair, contemplating the least troublesome response, remembering for a horrific instant the scent of burning flesh and fresh blood amid hot sand, accompanied by a woman's pitiful whimpering.  
"Tell him you don't know what happened to it. Your father never disclosed where he kept it and you didn't find it while going through his papers after his death. Hopefully that should get him to focus his doctorate on a less dangerous topic."  
"Yes sir. Thank you sir."  
The lieutenant reached to collect the letter but was stopped by Mustang grabbing her wrist. They shared a wordless look that conveyed all he needed to say. With a nod, he released her and strode out of the office for some strong coffee laced with stronger spirits. He could only hope it would be enough to bury the sound of the whimpers that echoed around his head.

Hawkeye, ever the faithful subordinate, replied saying she was very sorry but she was unable to help, as her father had never told her where he kept the research. She then promptly forgot the matter, attempting to make the Colonel complete his paperwork before the weekend started without resorting to violence. From the sounds emerging from the inner office of Colonel Mustang, she didn't succeed.

Eastwood sighed as he read the letter. _This doesn't make sense! She has to know where it is, or how else would Mustang be able to do flame alchemy? _He straightened in his chair at his epiphany. _Now there's a thought. Mustang! _


	2. Chapter 2

Eastwood presented himself at the reception desk at Central Command at 11am the next Monday. Giving the girl on desk duty what he hoped was his most charming smile; he said

"Hello, I've got an appointment with Colonel Roy Mustang at 11:15 this morning. I was wondering if you could point me toward his office?"  
"I can do one better sir", the girl said with a smile,"I can get you escorted there by his adjutant. Hey Lieutenant Hawkeye!"  
Riza turned from the door to the canteen toward the front desk, to see Sheska beckoning her.  
"Morning Sheska. What can I do for you?"  
"This gentleman has an appointment with your Colonel. I was hoping you'd show him the way to your office?"  
"Sure. It's no trouble", she said before turning to greet the young man. As she looked at him she was struck by a nagging feeling of déjà vu "I'm sorry, but have we met before? You seem familiar."  
"Hello Riza", Jonathan replied nervously "It's been a long time."  
"Jonathan? It must be the best part of ten years since you finished your apprenticeship."  
"Was it really that long ago? I guess it must be. You've grown up so much."

Together they headed along the maze-like corridors of Central Command, Riza innocently discussing old times, ignorant of the troubles ahead.  
"So why are you meeting the Colonel?"  
"Well he is the Flame Alchemist. I figured if you didn't know what happened to your fathers' research, maybe he did. I really would like to be able to study it."  
"Flame alchemy is a dangerous business Jonathan", Hawkeye reminded him with a sad smile "Are you sure you don't want to study something less volatile?"  
"I'm sure. Don't worry; I'm quite the capable alchemist these days."

She paused a moment before the doors to the office, giving him the once-over.  
"One thing. Once we're inside, call me Lieutenant instead of Riza. I'm a soldier now."

With that, she opened the doors and walked past the other members of the Colonels' staff, all of whom were surprised to see her with a civilian they'd never seen before. Havoc leaned back in his chair, cigarette dangling from his lips as always, only to have it plucked from his lips as she strode past.

"Awww Lieutenant! I'm not the only one who smokes in this building! Can't you let me have it?"  
"You may not be the only smoker in the building but you're the only one smoking in my office."  
"Don't you mean _my_ office Hawkeye?" Mustang asked sarcastically from his position leaning against the door, with a raised eyebrow and a sardonic grin.  
"Of course sir. I apologise. This is-"  
"I know who it is Hawkeye. Believe it or not I actually do read my schedule some mornings. Come on in Jonathan."  
"Gladly. It was nice to see you again Ri-Lieutenant. Maybe we could go for a drink later, if you don't have plans?"

The closing of the office doors behind him sounded oddly reminiscent of the doors of hell.

Havoc and Breda glanced at each other in astonishment. Who the hell was that guy?  
"Hey Breda" Havoc muttered "Want to see if you can get that familiar with the Lieutenant without the Colonel burning you eyebrows off?"  
"Don't be daft! I wonder who that guy is?"

Both men looked up at the thump of files appearing on their desks.  
"Why don't you both get on with your paperwork instead of gossiping like a pair of old women?"

Across the wide double desk, Falman and Fury smirked as the Lieutenant returned to her desk in a dignified sweep of military efficiency.


	3. Chapter 3

Roy sat behind his desk, king of all he surveyed, subjecting Eastwood to a burning scrutiny. To his satisfaction the man was beginning to squirm. _Serves him right for getting familiar with Riza, the little slimeball._

"So why did you suddenly feel the need to arrange a meeting Eastwood? I haven't heard a peep from you since you left Master Hawkeyes' house. You didn't come to the funeral." He paused "Riza was disappointed you weren't there. All his other students came."  
"Well, uh I'm actually here about Master Hawkeye. Or more accurately his research. I want a copy Mustang"  
"That's Colonel to you Eastwood", Mustang said, stopping just short of a growl "What makes you think I have a copy? And why should I give you Masters' research if I did have it?"  
"Really?" Eastwood laughed "You haven't grown up at all. You have to have had a copy – you're the Flame Alchemist. Even if you don't have a copy you must remember it. And it's for academic research. I'm starting my doctorate in elemental alchemy and old Master Hawkeyes' research would make it much easier."

Mustang twisted slightly in his chair as he pretended to consider Eastwoods' request, while making up a believable lie.  
"I don't have a copy. Master showed me his research then took it back. I never had a copy. If you want to work out flame alchemy, you'll have to research it yourself. You might even manage it without burning your hands off"  
Eastwood scowled. _Smug bastard, he always was the Golden Boy._

"Are you sure about that? It's a pity. Oh well, maybe Riza will reconsider when I take her out later." Eastwood awarded himself brownie points as Mustangs face snapped into a fierce scowl.  
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. The Lieutenant has to work late tonight. Now we've had our little chat, you can leave."

As Mustang stood to walk him to the door, Jonathan suddenly recalled what the girl at reception had said _an appointment with your Colonel, _your _Colonel. Does that mean they're together now?_ He had to stop himself shuddering at the thought. The Golden Boys' voice snapped him out of his reverie  
"Havoc! Escort Mr Eastwood out."

The would-be smoker jumped to his feet and opened the door for Jonathan. As he left the office he caught Riza shooting Mustang a curious look, probably wondering why she wasn't the one escorting him out. As if the bastard could tell he was thinking about her, he suddenly snapped  
"Hawkeye! My office. Now."

The last thing Jonathan saw was Hawkeye disappearing into the bastards office like a lamb to the slaughter_, or maybe_, he thought, hating himself for putting the image in his mind _like a whore to her masters bed._


	4. Chapter 4

"Hawkeye, I want you to avoid him from now on. He's determined to get his hands on your fathers' research and he probably isn't above using you to get it."

" . . . Sir, you are aware I'm not twelve any more. I can take care of myself." She replied, standing stiffly to attention, in a way that let him know he'd irritated her.  
"I don't care. You don't know him Lieutenant."  
"With respect sir, I lived with the man for six years. I know him well enough. Jonathan wouldn't hurt me."

They both heard the gasp from the other side of the door and the hurried scramble to get back to work before either of them left the office. In unison, they let out exasperated sighs.

"Maybe this conversation should wait till later Lieutenant. Someones' ears are burning out there."  
"Yes sir." From behind her back she pulled three files "You should examine these before your meeting this afternoon", suddenly the epitome of professionalism once again.

Later that afternoon Mustang watched as his small bespectacled Sergeant gathered his things and left for the night, leaving him alone with Hawkeye. Switching his gaze to his pain in the ass of a Lieutenant he watched as the late afternoon sun streaming through the window behind him picked up the highlights in her golden hair.

Hawkeye could feel his eyes on her, waiting expectantly for her to return his gaze. She stubbornly continued with her report, unwilling to deal with the soul-baring glare of the Colonel. Sighing, she gave into temptation and looked toward him, taking the glare full on.

"Is there something you wanted to ask me sir?"  
"I was planning on continuing our conversation from earlier", Mustang said cautiously, hoping she wouldn't pull a gun out and force him to do more paperwork for daring to worry about her.

Wearily, Hawkeye got to her feet and walked around to stand in front of his desk, heels clicking against the linoleum floor.  
"Sir, I really don't see how Jonathan Eastwood could be a threat to me. He's a rather scrawny academic and-"  
"Fullmetal's a stunted child and he causes havoc wherever he goes!" Mustang snapped "I want you to keep your distance. That's an order Lieutenant!"

"Do you really have that little faith in me sir?" Hawkeye asked after a moment, in a small disappointed voice that made Mustang feel all of three inches tall. Her fringe hid her eyes so he couldn't tell what she was thinking.  
"You know I would trust you with my life. Which is precisely why I don't trust you with yours – you're far too willing to jump into a bullet to know when to back off!" he barked, worry and frustration shortening his already mercurial temper.

Hawkeye finally raised her gaze from the floor, red-brown eyes as hard as diamond  
"And with all due respect sir, I fail to see how it's _any_ of your business who I spend time with when off duty!" she snapped back at him. "I would request you trust my judgement enough to consider me capable of not putting myself in a potentially dangerous situation when avoidable."  
"Hawkeye your refusal to see that slimeball as a threat is an error in your judgement! The man's been obsessed with you ever since you hit puberty, following you around like a wolf stalking a sheep-"  
"Were you any different sir?"

There was a moment of stunned silence. Mustang leaned over his desk, black eyes sparking with disbelief, daring her to take it further.  
"Excuse me Lieutenant?"  
"I may have been young sir but I was never blind", she replied with a sardonic grin, "I was aware that _both_ of you watched me. Does that mean I should also consider _you_ a threat?"

His face folded into a scowl, reminding her of the boy he'd been before he became the Flame Alchemist, Hero of Ishval, the man who had struggled to get out of bed, he was so crushed with guilt.

"That's completely different! I wasn't- I never-" He spluttered desperately, trying to deny her accusation, his face getting redder and redder with embarrassment.  
"You never what sir?" Hawkeye asked innocently, hiding a smile. "And for your information, I wasn't going to go for a drink for him. He's always been too smooth for my taste."

Mustang stilled, his face reverting to a more normal complexion.  
"You let me worry about that bastard getting his hands on you all afternoon, and made me completely embarrass myself, when you weren't going to have anything to do with him anyway? _Why?_ "

"Well, sir, it was very entertaining" She replied with an impish grin. "Now, Colonel, do I have permission to walk home on my own or are you going to insist on holding my hand as I cross the road?"  
"As you said, you aren't twelve years old anymore. Go on home and get some sleep Lieutenant."

Sitting back down, he watched as she moved about the office with that confident casually hip-swinging walk he loved to watch. As she pulled open the door, she paused and turned, gracing him with a rare full smile.  
"You're staring again Colonel"

He whipped his chair around to stare out the window, ignoring the feeling his ears were on fire.


	5. Chapter 5

Jonathan sat on his narrow bed in his small room in the university halls, his head in his hands. He had completely failed to get his hands on any of Master Hawkeyes' research. Not even a solitary scrap of paper.

He rubbed his blue eyes tiredly. _Riza _has_ to know where it went! Maybe she hid it somewhere to protect it? I have to get her to trust me. And if that doesn't work, there might be a skeleton in a closet I can use to drag it out of her . . . _

Running a hand through his sandy hair, he wracked his brains, trying to think of a way to get his hands on the research he so desperately needed. Other than Berthold Hawkeye, the last research on flame alchemy had been 50 years ago – the danger in the work had scared off everyone else. Without the flame alchemy research, his doctorate was doomed. As much as he hated to admit it, he simply wasn't skilled enough to work out the secret of flame alchemy alone.

He suddenly thought of the basement of the old house – _Riza was never allowed in while her father was alive. Maybe he hid a copy in there? It would explain why she doesn't seem to know where it is._

With that thought, a flash of hope shot through him like lightening. He looked around the dingy room once more, grabbed his long brown coat and battered briefcase and headed to the station. He _would_ find that research.

The next afternoon, he surveyed the mess he had made of the basement-cum-laboratory of Berthold Hawkeye. He had sprayed papers all over the dark room. One or two of the more interesting papers he had put in his briefcase, in the hope they would prove, quite literally, illuminating, but he still had yet to discover the secret cache of research materials he had hoped for.

The last things to go through were the personal journals the old man had kept during Jonathan's time as his apprentice. He had been reluctant to look through them, fearing his own insecurities would be splashed across the pages in his Masters' crabbed handwriting. Opening one of the journals to a random date, he started to read.

"_It's done. This devils' research is finally complete._" Jonathan sucked in a breath; this was the journal he needed. If the secrets were anywhere, they would be in here. "_I have decided to give my research to Riza. Riza _is_ my research now. All other copies have been destroyed – she is the only one who has the secret and she doesn't even have the capability to practise alchemy. It's ironic in a way. She will protect it, and God willing go to her grave with it still a secret. This world doesn't need another flame alchemist._" Jonathan stared at the page in wonder "_Riza _is_ my research now_"

What did it mean? Suddenly he remembered a story Master Hawkeye had told his students one day, about the Xerxians.  
"_Did you know what the Xerxian king did when he had a secret message that he couldn't risk falling into the wrong hands? No? He would tattoo it on a slave, somewhere that was covered by their robes. See, no one ever bothered to look at the slaves. They were as much part of the background as that chair." _The old man had chuckled, before going on to lecture them about early alchemy.

Roy had hung on every word, his dark eyes ablaze with the lust for knowledge, while Jonathan had been daydreaming, staring out the window at his Masters' young daughter reading a book in the shade of the big willow tree.

Snapping out of his memory, he indulged himself in anger for a minute. _Stupid cow _did_ have the research! No wonder Mustang got his hands on the research if she's his whore. _He grinned. _This could be just the skeleton I need. I wonder if her superiors know she's carrying around the secret to flame alchemy? They'd probably appreciate another Flame Alchemist after all the damage her beloved Mustang did in Ishval._

A plan began to percolate through his mind as he stuffed the journal in his suitcase and left the house, heading to Central once more.


	6. Chapter 6

After almost a week with no contact from Jonathan, Hawkeye had begun to think he had given up on his hopes of getting her fathers' research. She realised her error on her way to work, when he detached himself from a shadow outside Central Command, his tall lanky frame topped with a smug grin.

"Hello Riza. I found your little secret. Give me the research or I'll tell your superiors you're hiding the secret to flame alchemy."  
"I don't know what you're talking about. I told you-" she replied stiffly  
"You told me a pack of lies to make me leave you and your precious Colonel alone." The smug grin was gone, replaced by determination and anger "Speaking of the Golden Boy, aren't there regulations that prevent you from serving under him if you're in a relationship?"

Riza ground her teeth in frustration. _Why can't he just find another subject?_

"That's irrelevant Jonathan. My relationship with Colonel Mustang is purely platonic."  
"I don't think you're taking me seriously enough _Miss Hawkeye_" he hissed at her, grabbing her arm with a surprisingly iron grip "Give me the research or I will make your life a living hell!" he continued, shaking her hard before shoving her into the wall.

The impact broke her hair free of her clip, the blonde waves spilling around her shoulders as her red-brown eyes shot daggers.  
Quick as a rattlesnake, she drew the gun from the holster at the small of her back and pointed it at his chest. Surprise flitted across his features as he took a step backwards.

"I've told you Jonathan. I don't have the research. You should find another subject."  
"Oh but what else could possibly be as captivating?" he slanted her a lecherous look "Unless of course it's you. Just ask Mustang."

"Hey Lieutenant, is everything ok?" Jonathans' head snapped round to see the worried face of Jean Havoc, his hand resting on his holstered pistol. Hawkeye kept her eyes on Jonathan, still aiming for his chest.

"Everything's fine Havoc", she said calmly, as if she wasn't pointing a gun at a man in a dank alleyway with a bruise forming across her bicep "Mr Eastwood was just about to leave."  
Assessing his options, he sent her a glare and leaned in to promise in a whisper

"I know it's on your body somewhere, Riza. I'll have great fun finding out where."  
His message delivered, he hurried away down the alley, his long legs giving him the appearance of a scuttling spider.

Havoc looked on curiously as the Lieutenant paled, then holstered her gun. As he opened his mouth she snapped  
"No questions Havoc!" as she walked briskly past him, needing some space to compose herself, shaken as she was that Eastwood knew the research had been tattooed on her. _This is bad. This is very very bad. Mustang'll be sure to start treating me like spun glass if he finds out._

Mustang was immediately suspicious of the sudden silence as he walked into the office. Havoc and Breda exchanged guilty glances before burying themselves industriously in their work. Mustang let the door shut behind him with a quiet yet ominous click. His boots gleamed as he strolled across the office to stand behind their chairs. It gave him no small satisfaction to watch a bead of sweat run down Jeans temple.

"Is there something either of you wish to tell me?" he asked softly, gently rubbing his fingers together, and watching with carefully disguised glee as Breda also started sweating.

"Tell him Havoc" the Sergeant muttered, deflecting the black glare onto the Second Lieutenant.  
"On your feet for your report Havoc" Mustang said jovially, as he backed away from his intimidatory position.  
"Well, sir, you see I was on my way into work this morning and I- uh, I . . ." Havoc trailed off, expecting the Colonel to start shooting the messenger. "I saw First Lieutenant Hawkeye in an altercation with the civilian you met with last Monday sir."

Roasting in the onyx glare that demanded more details, he continued "Uh, the civilian, had um well, slammed her into the wall and then she pulled a gun on him. Really, she took care of herself sir."

Mustang scowled his displeasure; coat swirling, he turned to roast Hawkeye with his glare for making him find out second hand that Eastwood had dared to lay a hand on her. His wrath was temporarily stymied, however when his glare settled on an empty chair.

"Where is she now?" he growled, just as the door opened to reveal a calmed and composed Lieutenant Hawkeye. She paused in the doorway as she took in the scene; Mustang looking like he was about to burn something to a crisp, while Havoc stood miserably and Breda was trying not to look as if he was cowering in his chair.

"Lieutenant. My office. Now." The Colonel bit out, slamming the door of his inner office behind him.  
Hawkeye turned her burgundy gaze onto Havoc, still standing miserably behind his desk, looking for all the world like a school boy caught cheating on a spelling test. If you ignored the cigarette.

"You told him didn't you?" It was more a statement than a question. The rest of the staff could never keep a secret from the Colonel – it appeared to be her talent alone.

"Sorry Lieutenant" he muttered contritely, grounding out his cigarette before she could snatch it from him.


	7. Chapter 7

The men winced as Hawkeye swept from the office in a cold fury. They had heard the yelling through the wall and it had terrified them, sure they were going to have to go in and break up a fight at any minute. None of them wanted to get caught between the Hero of Ishval and the Hawks' Eye. The Lieutenant kept words to a minimum that day, choosing instead to try and bury her outrage and embarrassment at being treated like a child under the stony mask she called her face.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been this truly furious with Mustang. _It's all well and good for him to be worried about me, Lord knows the man always did put the life of his men before his own, but how dare he treat me like a child? So what if Eastwood attacked me? I handled it fine on my own._

In awe of their Lieutenants ability to silently punish the Colonel while conforming to the military regulations, they watched as she placed pile after pile of reports and forms needing his signature before him. To their surprise, Mustang meekly accepted the work and didn't attempt to slack off at all, until, at a quarter to five she placed another large stack in front of him.

"Lieutenant, this is going to take me at least an hour to go through."  
"Well sir, you had better get started hadn't you?" She had replied sweetly. "After all, you should have something to keep you entertained. If you won't let me go home, then I'll catch up on some reports I need to finish."  
"Lieutenant . . ." he sighed "It's for your own safety."  
"With all due respect sir, I can take care of myself just fine. It's taking care of you that's the hard part."

With a casual eye flick, the Colonel emptied the office.  
"Hawkeye, it's your own fault you're in this situation. If you had come to me in the first place instead of letting me find out from Havoc, I might've-"  
"Might've what sir? Might've let me carry on with my work like I always do, instead of ordering me to be accompanied wherever I go? Might've acted like a grown man instead of a child who's jealous another boy played with his toy?" She abruptly stopped her tirade, for fear her wall might break, leaving her sobbing with frustration guilt, and though it pained her to admit it, fear.

"Damnit Hawkeye, you know you're not a toy to me!" the Colonel ground out, leaping to his feet so he could look her in the eye in a desperate attempt to make her understand. "I can't risk anything happening to you!"  
"Sir I can't become your weakness! If you continue to act like this, I will become a liability to you."

Mustang dropped his eyes for a moment, exhausted from bearing the brunt of her anger all day. Drawing on whatever strength he had left, he schooled his face into the blank expression of command, and looked her in the eye as he said  
"Lieutenant Hawkeye, this is a direct order from your superior officer and I want it to be followed to the letter. You are not to go outside of Central Command unaccompanied until this situation with Eastwood has been resolved. You will not go back to your apartment – you will stay in one of the bunk rooms here. Am I clear?"

Hawkeye scowled at him, angry he had resorted to _that_ tone of voice. The one she could never disobey.  
"Crystal, sir." She replied stiffly. "May I request an escort so that I can go home and pack a bag? I'll also need to collect Hayate sir."

Mustang sighed. _Damnit, she's going to be mad at me for weeks! I've never known anyone hold a grudge like her. That bastard Eastwood is going to pay for all that paperwork!  
"_I'll take you Hawkeye_" _he said, slipping past her to shrug into his overcoat.  
"Thank you sir" she said with a hint of surprise.

He sent her the rakish grin that made the knees of women all over central buckle. As expected, it had no affect on his Lieutenant. He tried not to be too disappointed.


	8. Chapter 8

Riza looked through the open door that she had left locked firmly behind her, suddenly fiercely glad that she had the Colonel with her.

"Lieutenant, please tell me you forgot to lock your door before you left this morning."  
"I'm sorry sir, but I locked it."

Mustang sighed, and pushed her behind him as he entered her apartment, slipping on his ignition glove. He quickly cleared the apartment of any danger, allowing Hawkeye in.  
"There's nothing here apart from that letter" he told her.

Hawkeye crossed to her coffee table, picking up another innocent looking envelope. She was surprised to see photographs inside. Shaking the envelope out over the table, she watched the glossy pictures fall like apple blossom in the spring. A single sheet of paper joined their winding descent.

"Lieutenant . . . that's, that's _us_" Mustang spluttered in astonishment "There must be at least a dozen here – when the hell did he take them?" Neither of them bothered to clarify who _"he"_ was. There was no doubt in their minds that Jonathan Eastwood was the one who'd left the letter.

Hawkeye sifted through the photos; Mustang walking her home, her good-naturedly dragging Mustang out of a bar, Mustang kissing her cheek at her birthday party, her dancing with Mustang at the same party, the two of them walking through the park in their lunch break, her letting Mustang into her ground floor apartment, Mustang dropping her off at her apartment, her and Mustang at military functions over the past few years.

"I'd guess they've been taken over the past week sir. Obviously these ones" she theorised, pointing at the formal pictures of them at various military functions "Are publically available if you know where to look, but the others must have been taken over the past week or so. He met with you last Monday, I dragged you out of your mothers' bar on Wednesday, and the party was on Friday . . ." she continued, arranging the photos into a timeline. "He must've been following one of us. Probably me."  
"Damnit Lieutenant, how are you so calm about this? I'm calling Hughes."  
"Sir?"

Mustang looked at her, with such concern in his dark eyes she had to remind herself to breathe.  
"I can't ignore you being stalked by a slimeball Hawkeye. Anyway, it'll look worse if we try to hide it."  
"But sir, the photos . . . they make it look like-"  
"Like we've been breaking the frat regs. I know" he interrupted, causing her already pink cheeks to flush a deep red. "Hughes may give me grief about finding myself a wife, but he knows we wouldn't break the regulations. And the fact that we're showing it to an Investigations officer makes us look less guilty."

The matter settled, he crossed to her phone, steeling himself for the merciless ribbing he was sure to be put through by the irritating man he called his best friend.

"Sir!"  
Hawkeyes' sharp call stopped him in his tracks. He turned, shocked to see a look of what, on another woman, he would've called desperation on her face.

Her hand trembling slightly, despite her best efforts, she held out the letter that had been with the photos. Mustang felt the red mist descend as he read Eastwoods' diatribe, bile rising to the back of his throat as he pictured the man sitting down and setting out this page of threats and innuendos.

My dear Riza, and I'm sure Colonel Mustang

I am once more writing to request Master Hawkeyes' research. I will find the research eventually, so you may as well make it easier for all three of us and tell me now. If you do, you may get away from this with your reputations and careers intact.

If you continue to refuse my quite reasonable request, I will destroy the pair of you. The photos enclosed should be enough to put you under scrutiny for breaking the military's precious fraternisation regulations. If that happens Mustang, you lose your precious little Riza, although she really isn't that little any more.

She's grown into a lovely young woman hasn't she? Look after your whore Mustang. We all know you'd be nothing without her simply lovely body. I've always found a woman in uniform attractive and now I get to strip one bare in the name of science. It's a delightful thought. So where did the old man tattoo her? Personally, I'm hoping it's her chest.

Let me know your decision

Hawkeye looked up from her position on the floor into the stony face of her superior officer. He stood in the middle of her living room, quivering with rage. She knew how he felt. She had struggled to hold down her lunch as she read Eastwoods sick imaginings of her.

Of _her._ Riza had never seen herself as a victim, never considered herself weak, yet that was precisely what Eastwood was making her into. Suddenly, selfishly, she wished Mustang would forget all thoughts of bring anyone else into this. The last thing she wanted was for anyone else to read that filth, or worse, discover the truth about her back.

It would be a simple enough thing to end this. A deserted alley, a single bullet and all this mess would be over. Riza stopped short, shocked at herself for thinking such thoughts. _I may be a killer, but I refuse to become a murderer for the sake of that bastard._

Mustang knelt beside her, casting aside the letter. Seeing she was trembling with disgust and rage and helplessness, he pulled her into a rough embrace.  
"It's ok Lieutenant. We'll get through this."

Hawkeye buried her face in his chest, breathing in the calming smell of him. Slightly muffled by his jacket, she replied  
"Of course we will sir."

After a few moments, he released her and brought her to her feet. Subjecting her to a piercing gaze, he silently told her that he was there for her whenever she needed it, then crossed the room to place his telephone call.


	9. Chapter 9

Major Maes Hughes was relaxing in his office with his feet on his desk, admiring one of the pictures of his daughter that he'd brought in to decorate his office when his phone rang.

"Hello? Hughes here."  
"Hughes, I need a favour." Hughes frowned as the gravelly voice of Roy Mustang came down the phone line. _Uh oh. This has to be big for him to be calling in favours.  
_"Hey Roy! Sure, what do you need?" he paused, then schmoozed down the phone, "Do you need some advice on getting a wife?"

"Hughes! Now is not the time!" Mustang barked at him. "I need you to start an Investigation."  
"Well, that is my job. What do you need me to look into Roy?" Swinging his legs down from his desk, he reached for a notepad and pen.  
"Hawkeyes' apartment was broken into sometime today. I think she's being stalked. I need you to find an arrest a Jonathan Greenwood and . . ." Mustang paused, rubbing his temples "I also need you to run some interference for me so we don't end up getting investigated for breaking fraternisation regulations."  
". . . Roy? . . . What have you been doing with Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

"Hughes! I haven't done anything!"A sigh erupted from the phone in a rush of static. "I can't talk now, I have to get the Lieutenant back to HQ. Send someone to do whatever it is you guys do at her apartment."  
"Sure thing Roy. I guess it's a good thing you haven't found yourself a wife yet if you're doing the nasty with your Lieutenant."

Hughes chuckled as Mustang slammed the phone down on the other end of the line. _Geez, that guy is so easy to wind up._ Shrugging into his uniform jacket, he pushed his glasses further up his nose and left his office, yelling for officers to be dispatched and for someone to take over his active cases.

Hughes, Mustang and Hawkeye were gathered in Mustangs office, the photos on the table in front of them, the letter in Hughes' hands. After reading it through for the second time, he glanced between the pair.

"This is going to need some explaining" he said quietly.  
"Hughes you don't need to understand the letter; you just need to catch the bastard!" Mustang snapped at him. Hughes sighed.  
"We can come back to that later. Now tell me more about this Jonathan Eastwood."  
"He's a slimeball who's got an obsessio-"  
"Sir! You need to calm down! Please." Hawkeye interrupted Mustang, although she shared his sentiments "Eastwood was a student of my fathers' when I was a child. He said he was starting his doctorate at the university and asked me if I knew where my fathers' research had gone. When I told him I didn't have it, he turned nasty and this is the result." She continued calmly, giving Hughes the bare bones of the story.

"Well, that's a start. I'll send someone round to ask his professors in the morning. Physical description?"  
"Tall, at least six foot two, with sandy hair and blue eyes. He's very slim. He looks like a beanpole." Riza answered, seeing the Colonel was still seething.  
"Ok. Any distinguishing features?"  
"He has a scar across his chest. I don't know where he got it."  
"Hawkeye. Why do you know what his chest looks like?" Mustang ground out, while Hughes looked on impassively. Hawkeye fried her superior with a red-brown glare.  
"Can we please avoid a repeat of our conversation from Monday sir? If you must know, I saw it once when we were by the river." Shifting in her seat primly, she continued, with just a hint of disdain for his over-protectiveness "I'm surprised you didn't remember it yourself."

"Well, if we can move on from the jealous rages, are you going to explain the letter to me?"  
Mustang flushed red from embarrassment. He was about to tell Hughes to go stick his nose somewhere else, when Hawkeye laid her hand on his arm. Startled, he looked at her. In their locked gazes, a myriad of information and feelings flowed that Hughes couldn't even attempt to understand. Finally, reluctantly, Mustang nodded and Hawkeye withdrew his hand, after giving his arm a gently comforting squeeze.

"Jonathans' had a thing for me ever since I was a teenager. It made him terribly jealous that the Colonel was the better student and that I was, um, closer to him than I was to Jonathan. My father researched flame alchemy. It's highly dangerous and extremely volatile. Jonathan wanted a copy of the research for his doctorate." She sighed, preparing to let go of her secret once more.

"Lieutenant, you don't need to do this." Mustang murmured.  
"I do sir. Major Hughes deserves to know." Closing her eyes for a moment, she continued "In order to protect his research, my father tattooed it on my back and then destroyed all other copies of his notes. That's what he means when he writes that Mustang would be nothing without my body."

Hughes sat for a moment in stunned silence. He knew that flame alchemy was a rare branch of the science, and he knew that alchemists often wrote their research in code, but he'd never imagined someone going so far as to tattoo their work on the back of their own child.

"Well, that's . . . unexpected." He said finally. "So we're basically protecting your back from falling into this loony's hands?" Seeing the glance they shared, he sighed. "What else is there to know?"  
"It can wait Hughes. It's better for you if you don't know."  
"Fine. Keep your secrets. It's probably best if you stay here for the next few days Lieutenant. We need to process your apartment and this place is probably the safest place in the city for you."


	10. Chapter 10

"So do you think you could go shopping for me?"  
"Sure! What else are friends for? I still have some of your stuff here from the last time we had a girls' trip – I'll drop it off at the same time."  
"Thanks Rebecca. I'll see you tomorrow."

Riza hung up on her friend, and headed to her bunk room, carrying the overnight bag she kept in her locker. You never knew when you were going to be shipped off on a mission, so she'd gotten into the habit of keeping a spare uniform, pyjamas, a hairbrush and a toothbrush in her locker at Central Command.  
Stifling a yawn, she changed and slipped between the covers, falling asleep almost instantly.

Suddenly, _she was in the dark basement of her fathers' house. The room was cluttered with research papers, and lit only by candles. A draft caused them to flicker, sending terrifying shadows across the room. The walls were covered in bookcases and transmutation circles surrounded by annotations. She was lying on the table with her shirt off, muffling the whimpers as he tattooed his work on her back. The needles stung as her father used her to protect his work. The work that had always meant so much more to him than she did. She shivered against the cold table, wishing he hadn't chosen such a cold night. She turned to look at him, to ask _why?_ and he morphed into Mustang in his dress uniform, looking at her with the same mix of concern and pity as when he'd first seen the tattoo. Mustang morphed into Jonathan, his blue eyes cold as ice, leering at her as he reached to grab her. She screamed as his hands grabbed her and burst into flames, melting her flesh_.

Riza woke screaming, and grabbed the gun from under her pillow, searching for the threat as she struggled not to hyperventilate.

The sound of Hawkeyes' scream sent Mustang sprinting along the corridor, pulling on his glove, ready to burn Eastwood into a shrivelled blackened thing if he found him there. When he burst through the door, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

As Hawkeye recognised him, the gun lowered. He focused on her face – wide eyed with dilated pupils, pale face, trembling and clutching the gun like it was a lifeline. He sat on the edge of her bed and drew her into a gentle hug. With one hand, he took her gun, while the other stroked her hair.

"Ssshhh, it's ok, I'm here. No one's going to hurt you. I'm here, I'm here. You're safe now. Ssshhhh"  
He muttered soothing words as he kissed her forehead and held her close. She gripped the front of his shirt, trembling and trying not to cry. They stayed in their little bubble, cut off from the world, nothing existing but their desperate grip on each other.

Eventually, the trembling subsided.  
"Are you ok now?"  
"Yes, sir" she whispered, letting go of his shirt. He began to leave when her hand snaked out and grabbed his arm. He turned and looked into her big burgundy eyes. _So full of pain,_ he thought.

"Sir, would- would you mind- I- don't want . . ." she stuttered, trying to get through her stubborn pride and the walls she'd built to keep a professional distance.

"Of course I will Lieutenant." He tugged off his glove and set it on the bedside table with her pistol. Mustang quietly climbed into bed with his Lieutenant as if it was something he did every night. He drew her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead like she was 13 again and terrified of a thunder storm.

"I don't suppose I can use this as blackmail to get out of paperwork tomorrow, Hawkeye?"  
"Not a chance sir" she replied with a quiet laugh. She drifted off to sleep safe in his arms, just as she had when she was scared of the thunder as a child.

Riza stirred as the sunlight streamed in through the window. Making some intelligible noise in her throat, she snuggled further into her nice warm pillow. She froze abruptly, realising that it wasn't a pillow she was lying on. It was a mans' chest. Silently, her hand searched under the pillow, searching for her trusty pistol. Just as she was beginning to panic that she wouldn't find it, a voice rumbled

"It's on the table Hawkeye."  
". . . Sir? Why are you in my bed?"  
"Still not a morning person huh?" the Colonel grinned. "You invited me in last night." He said smugly.

He winced as a fist impacted with his chest, "That hurt!"  
"It was meant to sir" Hawkeye told him as she sat up away from his, admittedly very comfortable, chest. "There was no need to sound so smug about it."  
"There's every need, Lieutenant. You see, that bastards out there somewhere dreaming about getting his hands on you, and I've just spent the night in your bed." He grinned. "I think I'm allowed to feel smug about that."

"Sir. You're acting like an-"  
Mustang interrupted her before she could even finish rolling her eyes.  
"Like a seventeen year old boy, if memory serves."  
"I was _going_ to say idiot, maybe going as far as imbecile." Registering what he'd said, she frowned "Sir, what did you do when you were seventeen?"

"I got into a fight with the slimeball one day. There'd been a big storm the night before and as per usual, you'd completely freaked out. He saw me leave the next morning and tried to threaten me with going to your father about it. So I took the opportunity to rub it in his face that you'd never asked _him_ to stay the night."

"Sir, I was fifteen. I don't think I ever thought about you "spending the night" that way."  
"Really? How disappointing." He glanced at the clock and climbed out of bed. "I'd better get going before someone finds me here."

". . . Thank you for staying sir" Hawkeye said to his back in a small voice. His reply was a cocky grin, tossed over his shoulder on his way out of the room.


	11. Chapter 11

The office was quiet, except for the scratch of pens and soft muttering of the Colonels' staff. Thankfully, no one had heard that he had spent the night in Rizas' bed.

He dreaded the thought of what Hughes would do with that _particular_ piece of gossip, not to mention the risk of an inquiry into what was a serious breach of the fraternisation regulations. He glanced over at the Lieutenant, who was approaching with a set of reports.

"Sir, you need to read these."  
"Are you sure blackmail isn't an option?" He muttered, eyeing the reports distastefully.  
The Lieutenant simply smiled and walked away.

There was a knock, and a familiar looking dark haired woman stuck her head around the door.  
"Can I borrow Lieutenant Hawkeye for a few minutes Colonel?"  
Looking at his Lieutenant, he nodded.

Riza joined Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina in the break room, where two full-looking bags of clothes awaited her.  
"Thanks Rebecca. I would've gone myself, but-"  
"But Mustang is a paranoid so and so who won't let you leave?"  
"Pretty much", Riza replied, grinning as she took a peek in one of the bags.

Drawing out a short black skirt, she examined it critically "I still can't believe you got me to wear this."  
"Oh please" Rebecca said, laughing "You looked great in it and you know it. Even you have to let your hair down sometime. . . . So tell me, did anything . . . interesting . . . happen last night?"

"No." Riza forced away the memory of her snuggling into the Colonels chest while still half-asleep. Somehow she had a feeling she'd be forcing it away for a while.  
"You're blushing! Something happened didn't it? Come _ooon_ Riza – you owe me for the clothes – spill!"

"Nothing happened! I went to bed, the Colonel went to bed – nothing happened."  
Rebecca raised a highly sceptical eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying watching Riza squirm.

"Separate beds?"  
"Of course!" Riza said vehemently, conveniently sidestepping the truth. After all, they had started off in separate beds . . .

She was saved from further interrogation by Havocs' arrival. Seeing the very short black skirt she was holding, he raised an eyebrow  
"Isn't that a bit short for work Lieutenant?" He asked as he poured himself a coffee "Morning Rebecca."

"Morning Jean" she cooed "She may be a goody two shoes around her, but you should see her after a few shots of whiskey. See you later Riza."  
"Bye. And _please_ don't go spreading any rumours Becca!"


	12. Chapter 12

Mustang answered the phone with a typically brisk "Mustang."  
"Hey Roy. I have good news for you."  
"This had better be about Eastwood and not another of your matchmaking attempts, Hughes."

"Calm down, this is all business. We got Eastwood on his way to the university. We're taking him down to the cells right now, if you want to watch the interrogation."  
Mustang grinned. This was the best news he'd had all week.  
"I'll be there in ten minutes!"  
"Somehow I thought you'd want to be there" Hughes chuckled.

Hawkeye left the shooting range, holding her jacket over one shoulder. She was feeling much better after half an hour with her pistols. Every target had been Jonathan. Being cooped up in HQ was beginning to grate on her nerves, so every target got a hole in its head and its groin.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a man running. She was halfway through turning to see who was running around Command in this heat when she felt hands grabbing her shirt, tearing it open. She spun and slammed her back into the wall.

She couldn't afford to let anyone see the scars. Hawkeye gasped in surprise when she looked into the face of Jonathan Eastwood, his manacled hands already trying to rip her shirt again.

She dropped her jacket, and tried to kick him off her, but he just grabbed her trousers and started tearing them. Sergeant Brosch and Lieutenant Ross were desperately trying to pull him off her, but Eastwood had a strength born from madness.

He was too close for her to draw her pistols and it was hard to fight when you were trying to hold your clothes together. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a sparkle and suddenly Eastwood was lifted off her.

"What a lack of gentlemanly conduct! To attack while her back was turned!" Major Armstrong rumbled. "Are you alright Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

She nodded, although she was still shaken by the attack and uncomfortable that the officers in the range had come out to see what all the noise was about. Armstrong was holding Eastwood off the ground with ease; luckily he still had his shirt on.

"Where did you sleep last night Riza?" the struggling Eastwood spat at her "I went to your apartment but you weren't there. Were you in Roy's bed perhaps? I do hope he's taking good care of his little whore." He leered at her "How old were you when first let him into your bed? 15? Or was it even younger?"

Bending down to pick up her jacket, she managed to put it on without exposing her back. With one hand holding together the tear at the hip of her trousers, she took a step toward Eastwood.

"Yes, that's right, come closer. I'm sure your beloved Roy wouldn't mind me sharing you."  
Her fist connected with his temple, knocking him unconscious.

"Take this nutcase down to the cells. He should wake up in about half an hour" she said calmly, shaking out her hand. The bastard had a hard skull. Without another word, she turned and headed to her bunk room to change out of her ruined uniform.

Examining her uniform as it lay on the bed, she pronounced it unsaveable. Her favourite shooting shirt was torn almost in two, a huge rip across the back. Her trousers had a rip at the hip and another at the knee.

Digging through one of the bags Rebecca had left, she found a fresh uniform and quickly changed. Eastwoods' grabbing had ruined her hair, so she fixed that as well. Taking a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror, she buttoned herself back into the persona of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, tough as nails and completely unshakeable, come hell or high water.

She smiled at the thought. _I might need some high water when the Colonel hears about this.  
_Taking a deep breath, the Lieutenant headed to the office, prepared to get a grilling.

Hawkeye was surprised to see the Colonel wasn't in the office. She had expected him to be there waiting to yell at her for being attacked.  
"Where's the Colonel?" she asked Havoc.  
"He's with Major Hughes. There was an interrogation he wanted to sit in on."

Hawkeye barely suppressed a groan. Eastwood was sure to start goading him about almost stripping her outside the shooting range. Mustang was going to go ballistic.  
"Where's the interrogation Havoc?" _Who knows what he'll do if I'm not there?_


	13. Chapter 13

"Are you sure you're going to be ok with this Roy? He'll probably try to goad you into doing something stupid. You can watch from in here, but you can't be involved."  
"I'm a grown man Hughes. I can control myself." Mustang grumbled.

Hughes raised an eyebrow, seriously doubting his friend would be able to keep calm if Eastwood started saying things about Hawkeye. He left the observation room and almost walked into her as she sped along the corridor.

"Hey Lieutenant" Hughes said, surprised to see her "You wanna watch too?"  
"Actually sir, I'm here in case I need to restrain the Colonel."  
"Restrain him? He's a big boy now, I'm sure he can cope."  
"Well, sir, there's been . . . an incident that Eastwood will almost certainly mention that could make the Colonel, er, do something not in his best interests."

Hughes paused, examining her earnest little face. _This could be serious,_ he thought,_ I can't go in there without all the information._ "What happened Lieutenant?"  
"As he was being taken to the cells, he passed me in the corridor and tried to rip my clothes off. Major Armstrong restrained him and he, um," Hughes watched in astonishment as the usually unflappable Hawkeye started blushing furiously "he asked me where I slept last night and then he . . . he called me Mustangs' whore, sir. The Colonel will be furious with me if I let him find out from Eastwood."

"Roy's in the observation room. You'll have a few minutes to explain things to him while I'm doing the usual name, date of birth, etc." He paused, "Are you ok Lieutenant?"  
"Just a few scrapes and bruises sir. Thank you sir."

Mustang didn't bother to look up when he heard the footsteps. He would know that tread anywhere. Hawkeye crossed to stand her usual half pace behind him.

"Sir, there's something I need to tell you. I had a run-in with Eastwood on his way to the cells" she paused as Mustangs' head snapped round to pin her with those black eyes. "I'm fine. He didn't hurt me, but he said some things you won't want to hear and he destroyed my uniform" catching his examination of her clothing, she continued "I changed before coming here sir. I didn't want you to hear about it from him and lose control."

"How did he manage to destroy your uniform Lieutenant?"  
"He tried to rip it off me sir" she said quietly. "I don't think he saw my back though, so its' fine."

Mustang stared at her in astonishment.  
"The man tried to strip you! How on earth is that fine?!"

Hawkeye didn't answer, knowing that nothing she could say would calm her irate superior. She focused on the events unfolding in the interrogation room. Accepting that the conversation was over, for now at least, Mustang also turned to focus on Hughes' interrogation.

"Hawkeye? Did you give him that bruise on his forehead?"  
"Yes sir. I knocked him out so he'd stop screaming."  
"Hmm. Nicely done Lieutenant."


	14. Chapter 14

Eastwood examined the dark haired man sat across from him so very casually. Tall, broad shouldered, and dark haired with his glasses falling down his nose.

"Who are you? I thought Golden Boy would want to do this himself."  
Hughes looked up from the file in front of him  
"Golden Boy? Do you mean Colonel Mustang? He isn't an Investigations officer, so I get to conduct this charming little chat. I'm Major Hughes."

Eastwood scowled. He had been looking forward to needling Mustang. The man had so many buttons to press it was a wonder he didn't spend all his time in a jealous rage.

"So, you're a student at the University?"  
"Yes."  
"What is it you're studying?"

Eastwood smirked. This man was clearly an idiot. Either Mustang had sent him in with no background or he was wasting time asking questions he already knew the answer to.

"Lets' cut the crap shall we? Either you're wasting my time asking questions you already know the answer to or Mustang sent you in with no information, which doesn't surprise me. He always was a tight-lipped bastard." Eastwood ran a hand through his tangled hair "Speaking of lips, I don't suppose it's possible to get the delectable Lieutenant Hawkeye in here is it?"

"The Lieutenant is busy conducting other duties right now." Hughes set out the photos of Hawkeye and Mustang across the table. "If you ask me, it looks like you've been spending too much time thinking about her already."  
"Ah! They showed you the photos! I take it they're being investigated then?"

"Tell me, Mr Eastwood, why are you so desperate to get to Lieutenant Hawkeye anyway? I mean, she's pretty enough, but I've seen prettier." Hughes was rewarded with a snarl.  
"Oh please Major. She's so much more than a pretty face. There's something about a woman in uniform . . . and I so nearly got her out of it."

"And in return, she knocked you out. That must sting a bit; being knocked unconscious by someone you remember being a child."  
"You're mistaken. What stings is that Mustang won't let me share her. You'd think he'd be willing to give an old classmate a taste, but he's so selfish."

"Mr Eastwood-"  
"No. I'm done talking to you. I want to talk to the Golden Boy."  
Hughes sighed.

"You're in no position to make demands. You're facing charges of breaking and entering, stalking, and assault on a military officer. You're looking at maybe fifteen years in a military prison."  
"Assault on a military officer? Don't make me laugh. Riza's nothing more than Mustangs' whore. Anyway, it's their own fault. If they'd just given me the research when I asked nicely, we'd have avoided all this hassle. But, of course, Mustang did something _very_ naughty didn't he? It's possible the old man's work is gone forever. The naive little fool."

"I'd call Colonel Mustang many things, but not a fool. In fact, as I understand it, he's a better alchemist than you are Mr Eastwood." Hughes countered calmly, hoping like hell Roy wasn't about to burst through the door and start beating Eastwood into a bloody pulp.

Little did he know that the Colonel was being held back only by the presence of Lieutenant Hawkeye. He was well aware that his Lieutenant already thought he'd been acting like a jealous idiot and he didn't want to compound the image by hospitalising the slimeball.

"Yet I'm the one on the doctoral programme. Maybe you should consider your source Major – do you really expect that puffed up nobody to admit that someone else is better than he is?"  
Satisfied that he had hit a sore spot, Hughes continued with a gentle smile

"Actually, it was Lieutenant Hawkeye who said that you were the weaker student. Apparently, you got _dreadfully_ jealous."  
Eastwood quickly backtracked, trying to get this git to sympathise with him on a man to man basis.

"What else do you expect a man to do when someone's keeping him apart from the girl he's in love with? She may be his whore now, but she was meant to be mine."  
On the other side of the glass, Mustang murmured  
"Maybe you should go back to the office, Hawkeye."  
"With all due respect sir, no. I have every right to be here."  
Mustang sighed. _She's just too damn stubborn sometimes. I just hope he isn't about to say what I think he is_.

"I think you may have the wrong idea about their relationship Mr Eastwood. And, just some friendly advice, but trying to rip the girls' clothes off in the middle of a corridor is not the way to get her into bed. Have you never tried drinks, dinner, and a movie?"  
Eastwood smiled. He figured Mustang, and maybe even Riza herself had to be watching somewhere, or would at least be shown the transcript of his interview. If he couldn't wind them up in person, he'd do it via the records.

"You've missed my point Major. Let me tell you a story. I was 21, in the last few weeks of my apprenticeship with Master Hawkeye. Sweet little Riza was 15, already curving into a beautiful young woman. I decided to . . . pay her a visit, one night. I knew her father would be wrapped up in his research somewhere and I thought Golden Boy was asleep. Just as I was about to climb into her bed and lose myself in her for a few sweet hours, the bastard appeared in the doorway. "What do you think you're doing in Miss Hawkeyes' room?" he asked. So smug; like I hadn't caught him sneaking out of that very room the previous morning. I had to leave my . . . exploration that night. And every other night until I left, that stupid boy would sleep in a chair outside her room so I couldn't indulge myself." Eastwood sighed. "As I said, she was meant to be my whore."

In the observation room, Mustangs' face was brick red as Hawkeye stared at him in shock.

"No wonder you were so against me going for a drink with him." She muttered, once again fiercely glad that he was with her.  
"I told you he was a slimeball." Somehow, Mustang managed to sound smug even when he was blushing furiously.  
"Are you really going to pull an I-told-you-so sir?"  
"I'm seriously considering it Lieutenant." Neither of them mentioned the fact that he was keeping up the banter to stop her falling apart. They both knew that when she left that night she'd try and scald herself into feeling clean under the hottest shower she could stand.  
"You know, sir, your ability to sound smug is being impaired by the colour of your face."

Back in the interview room, Hughes sat silently, stunned by Eastwoods' "story".  
"Now that you understand my point of view, get the Golden Boy in here. I need to have a little word with him about the state of dear Rizas' back."  
Mustang and Hawkeye stared at each other in shock.

"I'm so sorry sir."  
"You have nothing to be sorry about. It's my fault. It always has been."


	15. Chapter 15

Hughes stormed into the observation room, disgusted at the fact he'd just spent half an hour in the same room as that bastard. He stopped cold when he saw the room was empty. _Where did they go?_

Hawkeye slammed the door to her bunk room and slid down to sit on the floor. Finally, now she was in private, she could take down her walls and cry her eyes out.

Cry because her back hurt where Eastwoods' manacles had ripped the scar tissue, cry because he had seen her back and if he'd seen it, who else had?, cry because his being here reminded her of the father who'd never really loved her, cry because of the things he wanted to do to her, cry because the thought of him trying to sneak into her room made her want to throw up, cry because his obsession with the research made her remember the pain of the flames, cry because she knew she'd hurt her Colonel by forcing him to burn her, cry because he'd protected her, cry because waking up with him had been something she'd wanted to do for years.

She wanted to cry and cry until she was a dried out dusty husk.  
A soft knock on the door made her jump. _Stupid girl. You should've expected him to follow you when you bolted like a startled deer. _

"Go away sir" she said thickly, through the door.  
"I'm supposed to give you orders, not the other way around Hawkeye. Open the door."  
Hawkeye stayed where she was, hoping he'd go away if she ignored him.  
"Hawkeye I'm not going to leave just because you're ignoring me. Open the damn door before I transmute a new one."

With a sigh, she stood and opened the door. _The man's just too damn stubborn sometimes. _Colonel Mustang stepped into the room and closed the door behind him as she went to sit on the bed and continue wallowing in misery. If she had to wallow with company, then so be it.

As far as she was concerned, she deserved some time to wallow. The Colonel sat down next to her; wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her into his chest, just as he had done the night before.

"You can cry if you want, Hawkeye. Lord knows you deserve to."  
"I can't cry sir" she whispered "If I start I might not be able to stop."  
"No one can be strong forever Hawkeye" he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead "Not even you."

"It's just so unfair! I never asked for this sir! I never _asked_ my father to give me his research – I never wanted anything to _do_ with his blasted flame alchemy!" Her outburst opened the dam and she started sobbing. Desperate, heart-wrenching sobs that made her chest ache. She was sobbing so hard she was scared she would break apart. She curled into a ball and clung to Mustang, in the hope that he would hold her together. Mustang let out a silent sigh as he stroked her back soothingly while she sat in his lap, and held her until the storm subsided.

"I'm sorry sir, I got your shirt wet" she muttered, her voice muffled by the remains of her tears.  
"You don't need to apologise Lieutenant. For anything."

Hearing the steel threaded through his voice, she drew away from his chest to look him in the face. As he looked into her burgundy eyes, reddened by her tears, he had to restrain the urge to run down to the cells and burn Eastwood into a crisp. He was suddenly struck by the thought that the last time he had seen her cry had been when he burned her back. _And isn't that a cheery thought._

"It's my fault. It's all my fault."  
"Sir. No." Hawkeye whispered, as she grasped his arm. "You can't blame yourself for this."  
"I didn't stop your father and then I- I hurt you. It's my fault."  
"Sir, please stop this. You didn't know what my father was doing to me. You can't stop things you don't know are happening."

"I should've known. That stupid story about the Xerxian King . . . he told me and the slimeball the story right around your fourteenth birthday. Wasn't that when he started the tattoo? And you got so quiet. You flinched whenever someone walked up behind you. All the pieces were there for anyone with half a brain to put together. But I was too stupid. I was too stupid and too obsessed with the science to work it out and I didn't protect you. So yes, Lieutenant, it _is_ my fault."  
"Don't you dare Colonel. Don't you dare shoulder the blame for him!" she gripped his shoulders and shook him "You are not to blame for this sir! Put the blame where it belongs – my father did that to me, not you. _Never_ you. You were a sixteen year old boy – you couldn't have been expected to put it together from a story and a change in attitude. Please, sir. Don't let him get off that lightly."

"Alright then Lieutenant, how do you absolve me of the blame for what _I_ did to your back?" his voice was sharp and cutting. He was doing what he always did – falling back on sarcasm as a defence. "I'd love to hear what my excuse is for turning your back into something that looked like the charred remnants of someone's' barbecue." She saw through the sarcasm effortlessly, like she always did. He'd never known anyone who tore away his defences quite the way she did.

"Sir, do you remember how strongly you argued against it? Do you remember spending an entire _week_ trying to persuade me not to?" she said softly, relaxing her hold on his shoulders. "Do you not remember what I threatened to do if you wouldn't burn it off? Do you really not remember how well you took care of me after you finally caved in?" she paused, fresh tears sparkling in her eyes, turning them into rubies. She cupped his cheek in her hand, trying to make him see "It was my choice sir. It was and always will have been my choice. You are _not_ and never have been at fault."

Mustang stared at her. Here she was, sat in his lap on the brink of tears, on a day when she had been put through so much, trying to comfort _him_, with her gentle words and her soft voice and her soldiers' hands. It was almost more than he could stand. Suddenly, the Colonel started to chuckle.

"What a pair we are Hawkeye. We'd shoulder the guilt for the sins of everyone in the world if we could, wouldn't we?"  
"You might, sir, but I know where my responsibilities stop." She replied, sniffing in disapproval.  
"In that case, will you please stop feeling guilty about that slimeball seeing your back?" He asked her gently, "The idiot attacked you from behind. There was nothing you could've done."  
"Yes sir."

Hawkeye went to swing her legs back down to the floor, as if she'd only just realised she'd spent fifteen minutes curled up on his lap. As she moved to begin cleaning her pistols, an activity she always found calming, Mustang saw blood on the back of her shirt.

"Lieutenant you're bleeding! You little idiot you told me he hadn't hurt you!" he snarled at her.  
"It's just a scratch sir! I'm fine!"  
Mustang scowled.  
"How am I meant to believe that when you lied about your condition before?"  
"A little trust wouldn't go amiss sir."  
"Damnit Hawkeye, why do you have to be so stubborn?"  
"You're calling me stubborn? Do you realise how ironic that is sir?"  
"Watch your mouth Hawkeye, before I have you up on charges of insubordination."  
"Please sir. Without me you'd never get another promotion – to climb the ladder you actually have to do some work."

The bickering began to calm them both as they fell into the rhythm they'd perfected as teenagers. The only difference was that now they had to bicker in private so that Hawkeye didn't get in trouble for being insubordinate. Although Mustang almost always threatened her with it.

**I know I don't normally ask, but I would really like a review or two for this chapter! Thanks for reading :)**


	16. Chapter 16

A knock on the door startled them both. Mustang hurriedly got off the bed as Hawkeye went to the door.

"I've been looking all over for you two! When I got into the observation room you'd vanished."  
"Oh, it's you Hughes."  
"No need to sound so dejected Roy. Who would prefer it to be?"  
"Someone carrying a big tub of ice cream sir." Her voice was heavy with irony, but there was a thread of hurt in there as well, if you knew her well enough.

Both men turned to look at Hawkeye, who had returned to her spot on the bed, cleaning her pistols. Hughes' face softened.  
"Sorry Lieutenant. That can't have been easy for you to hear."  
Hawkeye nodded, keeping her eyes on her dismantled gun.  
"Well, sir, that's why chocolate was invented. Did Eastwood say anything else after I left?"

"No. He just wants to speak to Roy." Turning, Hughes asked "Why does he keep calling you the Golden Boy?"  
"It's what Master Hawkeye called me sometimes." Mustang said quietly.  
"As far as my father was concerned, Major, Colonel Mustang could do no wrong." Hawkeye supplemented stiffly, beginning to reassemble her gun.

"Looks like the apple fell pretty far from the tree then, Lieutenant" said Hughes with a grin.  
"That it did sir." She replied with a small, impish grin.  
"Hey! I'm stood right here. If you're going to insult me, could you at least wait until I'm not in the room?" Mustang cut into their little conversation, outraged and at the same time grateful to Hughes for distracting Riza. "You said he wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes. He says he want to . . ." Hughes consulted his notes ". . . _discuss your sins._ Whatever that means."  
He watched in confusion as Mustangs' face darkened and his fists clenched.

"No sir." A quiet voice broke through the walls of rage "My fathers' sin." Ignoring the fact that Hughes was in the room, she went to him. Gently, she uncurled his fists, while he stared at her with an intensity that made Hughes feel like a Peeping Tom. "Don't let him use it against you."

Hughes cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling as if he'd broken into some private moment he wasn't meant to see. He'd always known they were close, but this was approaching a prelude to ripping each others' clothes off.

"So, I take it this has something to do with what your father did to your back?"  
"No Maes. This is about what_ I_ did to her." Mustang said hoarsely.  
"At _my_ request" Hawkeye reminded him irritably. No matter what she did, she could never make him let go of his guilt. "It wasn't a sin; it was a kindness."  
"Some kindness Lieutenant." Mustang said, with a sigh.  
"That's how I choose to see it sir." She raised an eyebrow "Good luck trying to make me change my mind, Colonel. I can be very stubborn."

Hughes looked between them in bewilderment as Mustang went from a blue funk to chuckling with a single sentence.

"So what actually happened? The suspense is killing me!"  
"You don't want to know Hughes. I'd really prefer you didn't know."  
"Sir. I assume the Major will be watching your discussion with Eastwood and the man is sure to bring it up. He may as well hear it now. And I trust him not to go blabbing it about headquarters – don't you?" Before Mustang could tell her no, she turned and pulled her shirt out of her trousers, showing the scars at the small of her back.

Hughes gasped. The portion of her back he could see was covered in thick swathes of rough pink scar tissue continuing up under her shirt. It was the kind of scar that only comes about after serious burns. At the edge of the burns, there were the remnants of words in scarlet ink. _No wonder Roy feels so guilty; if this was the "_kindness_" he did her._ After a moment, she pulled her shirt back down, and tucked it into her trousers again.

"I . . . _persuaded _Colonel Mustang to destroy the record of my fathers' work just before we were shipped back home after Ishval. Jonathan must've seen them when he attacked me earlier. I should imagine he's rather irritated right now."  
Mustang abruptly marched from the room. Hughes turned to follow, but stopped when Hawkeye grabbed his arm.

"Please be gentle on him, Major Hughes." She sighed heavily "He's a big ball of guilt and anger right now. . . . And it was my choice to deface my back. He spent an entire week trying to persuade me not to."  
"How did you persuade him to do it? I can't imagine it was an easy thing." Hughes asked quietly.

"I threatened to do it myself with boiling tar the minute I got back to Central. That or throw myself in the river." Taking in Hughes' shocked expression, she shrugged uncomfortably. "I was pretty desperate. I had to find a way to be sure that the research would be destroyed – I couldn't allow another Ishval." She paused, once again shoving her own fear aside to think of him. "You should probably be watching the interview, sir. Just in case he tries to beat Jonathan into a bloody mess."

"Sitting this one out Hawkeye?"  
"No sir. I just don't want the Colonel to know I'll be watching. He'll do better if he doesn't know I'm there."


	17. Chapter 17

Eastwood looked up as the door opened. He grinned when Mustang stepped through the door, looking slightly dishevelled.

"Well if it isn't the Golden Boy himself! You look tired" he said with mock concern "I guess Riza must be earning her keep. Sure you don't want to let me share?"  
"If you mean burying me under paperwork, then yes, Lieutenant Hawkeye is very efficient" Mustang responded as he dropped himself casually into a chair, ignoring the innuendo effortlessly. You couldn't hang around military officers without developing a thick skin.

"Why so formal? We both know you're more than friends. Of course, if you aren't, then I really will have to pay her a little visit." He looked pointedly at Mustang "You know the kind I mean."  
"I think your chronic jealousy might finally be affecting your cognitive functions Jonathan." Mustang smirked infuriatingly "But then, she always did prefer my company. What was it she said the other day? Oh yeah – she'd never lower her standards enough to go for a drink with you."

Mustang awarded himself a hit as the slimeball ground his teeth in frustration. _This is actually fun_.  
"Poor girl doesn't know what she's missing, Mustang. After all, how old was she when you first started visiting after dark? 14?"  
"If you're talking about the night you saw me coming out of her room . . . she was actually 15. Anyway what did you want to talk to me about? I'm a busy man and as fun as this sparring is, it's a waste of my time."

"I want Master Hawkeyes' research. You must remember it. At the very least, you have the array."  
"And if my Lieutenant refuses?"  
"Then you order your whore to give it to me or I'll tell everyone I can find that she has the secrets to flame alchemy. I imagine there must be at least one or two of your superiors who'd like another Flame Alchemist after all the damage you did in the little rebellion out east. I'd only ask to be there when she reveals whatever's left of her tattoo after your butchery. The idea of seeing her topless sends a shiver down my spine. Of course you've already had the pleasure." Jonathan paused as he noted the Golden Boys' lack of reaction. "Tell me, Mustang, what did you do for a study break? I bet I can guess."

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you. You don't want to get on the wrong side of the Hawks' Eye. What was it they used to say about her, Sergeant Davis?" Mustang remembered, but he wanted Eastwood to realise he wasn't the only officer who was fond of Hawkeye.  
"She could shoot a dragonfly in the eye from 500 yards sir." The sergeant, who had served with Hawkeye and was indeed rather fond of her, slanted a glance at the prisoner "I'm sure she'd have no trouble castrating a man."

Mustang grinned. It did help that Hawkeye was a popular officer. There were very few men around Central Command that wouldn't be looking for a reason to let Eastwood "accidentally" trip over his own feet.

"Jonathan, you're going to be in prison for a very long time. Flame alchemy would be of no use to you, even if Hawkeye did give me permission to tell you. Unsurprisingly the military takes a very dim view of stalking and assaulting its officers."  
Eastwood burst out laughing.  
"Oh that's just too entertaining! You – the _great_ Roy Mustang – needing permission from your whore! And as for jail – what prison do you think could possibly hold me?"

"I think a pretty standard one would do. We have far worse than you stashed away." Mustang walked around the table to stand behind Eastwood. "I don't suppose I'll talk to you again Jonathan, so I'll say this." He leaned down to hiss in his ear "_Always remember she chose me over you._" He straightened and headed for the door, calling over his shoulder to Sergeant Davis

"Take that maggot down to the cells. Make sure whatever cell you put him in is alchemist-ready."

"You were right, Lieutenant. I don't think he could've done that if he'd known you were watching."  
"I've known the Colonel for a very long time sir. He's not that hard to predict."

"I don't know what you're always complaining about, Hughes." Mustang strode confidently through the door. "That interview was a-" He stopped short when he caught sight of Hawkeye behind Hughes. "Oh, Lieutenant, I didn't know you were watching."  
"I thought you would do better if you weren't aware I was here sir. I'll head back to the office now."  
Mustang caught her arm as she walked past

"Lieutenant, some of the things he said-"  
"It's alright sir. I'm a big girl now; I can cope with some jealous ranting. I'd really better get going – with both of us out of the office, who knows what the rest of your staff are up to."  
Mustang watched her go, walking away as if she hadn't just chosen to listen to that bastards vile imaginings. Hughes watched the expression on his friends face change as he looked at Hawkeye and came to a decision.

"Roy, I have made a decision."  
"Really Hughes?"  
"I'm going to stop nagging you to find yourself a wife."  
"Finally!"  
"I'm going to start nagging Hawkeye to resign instead. It's obvious you two are made for each other, so now all I have to do is get you two together!"  
"_What?! _But- it's not- we're not- it's not like that Hughes!_" _Mustang spluttered, stopping just short of yelping, much to his friends' amusement. _  
_"Then why are you impersonating a tomato? Bye Roy."

Hughes was grinning broadly as he walked away, envisioning blonde haired playmates with onyx eyes for his darling Elysia.


	18. Chapter 18

It was early evening, and his men were leaving, nodding their goodbyes. He looked up as Hawkeye came to take away the last set of signed reports.  
"I'm going back to my apartment tonight sir. There's no reason for me to stay here now Jonathan's in custody."  
"Why do you still call him Jonathan? After all he's done."

Hawkeye looked vaguely surprised to be asked such a question.  
"Habit I suppose, sir. Is there anything else you need for tonight?"  
"No Lieutenant that will be all."  
"Yes sir. See you tomorrow sir. Goodnight."

Roy lay in bed, twitching in his sleep.

_He was back in Ishval, wearing the uniform of the Major he used to be. All around him was fire. Roaring, licking flames, ten feet tall, burning orange and red, the exact same shade as the blood that soaked into the parched desert sands. At the base of the wall of flames were children, so many children, condemned to a fiery damnation because they had brown skin and red eyes. Condemned for the actions of their parents. Condemned because they had had the misfortune to cross paths with him, Major Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Ishval; the monster who melted people alive to order.  
He saw their faces melting off their skulls, the flesh bubbling away with the heat of the flames, the liquid in their eyes boiling and running down what was left of their cheeks, their skulls fracturing as the flames burned ever hotter and climbed ever higher. He heard their screams; he heard _every_ scream he had ever inflicted. It was like listening to a choir sing in screams of pain.  
Then he saw _her_. Walking through the wall of flame, a pillar of unwavering elegance in the midst of all this agony, seemingly unaffected as the fire caught on her uniform, her hair, her skin. Always on her beautiful skin. She gave him a gentle smile that was burned away as she called "Thank you. Thank you Mr Mustang." The sand whipped up around him as he tried to run to her. He was trapped in the centre of a tornado of burning sand. He was blinded by the swirling sand. The sandstorm formed clouds that rained down on him the blood the desert had absorbed. He stood there, alone, being slowly covered in blood. _

He sat up with a start, panting. He dragged his hands over his pale, bloodless face.  
"Hawkeye" he muttered, untangling himself from the bed sheets. Carefully he made his way around the darkened room to the phone.

As much as he hated to call, he knew he wouldn't sleep tonight unless he heard her voice. The phone rang, and rang, but she didn't pick up. She _always_ picked up when he rang her in the small hours off the morning, because she knew why he called. Her silence meant an emergency, of either a physical or an emotional nature. Cursing his weakness, his dependency on her, he hurriedly dressed and headed to Hawkeyes' apartment.

When he reached the public shooting range that was a few bus stops from her apartment, Mustang slipped inside his Lieutenants favourite place.

"Is she here tonight, Leo?" He asked Hawkeyes' friend with a calmness he wasn't really feeling.  
"Hey Mustang. Long time no see. She's been here about half an hour." The big man paused "Is everything ok with her? I mean, I know something has to be wrong for her to be here, but is there something more than usual? I wouldn't ask, but the first set of targets got shot in the balls."  
"Just some work stuff. She'll cope."  
"She always does" Leo replied with a wry grin, nodding for Mustang to go on through.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw her in one of the shooting booths; Hayate curled up at her feet. Taking a pair of ear protectors from the shelf, he settled himself in a chair and simply watched her shoot, quietly admiring the curve of her spine and the long length of her legs showing thanks to her preference for wearing short shorts in bed.  
It irritated him slightly to notice that some of the other insomniacs at her friends' range were doing the same thing, although admittedly more covertly than he was. She ran through a clip, every shot sinking into the centre of her targets' forehead before acknowledging his presence.

"Do you have to stare so loudly sir?" she asked, pulling down her own ear protectors.  
"I don't know what you mean. I was watching, not staring."  
"Of course sir. What are you doing awake at this hour? And why are you here of all places?"

Mustang looked away, trying to ignore the feeling of his ears beginning to turn pink "I had the nightmare again." Unspoken was his need to see her, and the fact that he was here meant he'd already been to her apartment in search of solace.

"But it's been almost eight months sir. I thought you'd finally got rid of it." He was thankful she didn't mention that she knew how long it'd been because his weakness demanded he call her, to hear her voice, whenever he woke from that particular bad dream.  
"I hoped I had as well. I had to come see you if I wanted any hope of getting some sleep tonight. But why are you here? Did you have another nightmare?"

She looked away; vaguely ashamed he had to ask the question. It was common for soldiers to have nightmares of the things they did in the name of duty, but she still found it deeply embarrassing to wake up crying like a child.  
"No sir. I haven't actually slept yet."

"Lieutenant, its quarter to two in the morning. How have you not slept yet?"  
"I think part of it's not wanting to wake up screaming." Her gaze skittered across the room as she admitted the real reason for her insomnia "The rest of it is being terrified that bastard will turn up as soon as I close my eyes. I'm getting paranoid."

She stiffened as Mustang drew her into a hug, painfully aware of the fact they were in public, at the range of all places. The last time they'd had so much physical contact, they'd been teenagers. She would be glad when this was over. She needed to regain her distance.

"He's not going to get you Hawkeye. He's safely locked away at Command. Even if he wasn't, I wouldn't let him."  
"But what if he got you sir?" she said as she gave into temptation and returned the hug, peivacy be damned.  
"That's what I have you for." Mustang replied confidently, relishing the chance to be close to her. "Which is why you should really go to bed. I can't have my Lieutenant falling asleep tomorrow. Although . . . on second thoughts, maybe you should stay here shooting all night – I might be able to slack off for once."

"Don't be ridiculous sir. You'd try and slack off if I was wide awake with a gun to your head."  
She forced herself to step back from his warm embrace, and he reluctantly relinquished his hold.  
"So will you sleep?"

Without bothering to reply, she clicked her tongue at Black Hayate and left the room. With a quiet huff of laughter, Mustang followed, knowing without being asked that she expected him to drop her at her apartment.


	19. Chapter 19

Jonathan Eastwood lurked in the shadowy stairwell of Hawkeyes' apartment building, hoping like hell she'd return from Mustangs' bed soon. It was only a matter of time before his escape was discovered, although the message he'd left should misdirect those buffoons for a while.

He peered out of the window when he heard the car. It was Mustang, dropping his whore back home. Her scanty clothing and the look on her face when she turned to say goodnight left Eastwood in no doubt that they'd been enjoying some carnal pleasures.

Riza yawned as she made her way up the stairs to her apartment. The Colonel was right – she was of no use to him falling asleep on the job. She let Mustang blame her lack of response to Hayate's warning on exhaustion later, but really, there was no excuse.

She had hardly started to reach toward her holster when the sudden shadowy figure plunged a needle into her arm. Her world began to spin, and darken as she lost grip on her consciousness and slid to the floor at her attackers' feet.


	20. Chapter 20

Roy was smiling as he drove away from Hawkeyes' apartment. It probably had something to do with the great view of her fantastically toned legs as she jogged across the street to her apartment. Now he'd satisfied himself that she was safe and his nightmare was indeed just a nightmare, he was looking forward to getting back to bed.

As he pulled into his space behind his building, a soldier approached his car. The young man shined a torch through his window, then saluted.

"Major Hughes! Colonel Mustang is over here!"  
Mustang climbed out of the car as Hughes approached, looking somewhat the worse for wear.  
"Hughes what is all this? Why are there soldiers at my building?"  
"Where the hell have you been Roy? I've been trying to get hold of you for almost an hour!"

Mustang froze. He couldn't tell Hughes where he'd been – Hughes didn't know about the nightmare. Sure, Hughes knew about the guilt and he knew he _had _nightmares but Mustang had never quite dredged up the guts to tell him about _the_ nightmare. The one that always sent him running to her like a child with a skinned knee.  
"Nowhere. Why?"

Hughes frowned as he came closer, catching a whiff of gunpowder and something softer, more feminine, like flowers. _Gunpowder and flowers? Lieutenant Hawkeye smells like gunpowder and flowers. Maybe there's something in the rumours after all. It would explain why the idiot's lying to me . _  
"Eastwood used one of the springs from his mattress to scratch a transmutation circle into the wall of his cell. He's out. And he's coming for you."

"He's out? Goddamnit! What do you mean he's coming for me?"  
Hughes held out a photo. It was one of the cells in Central Command. Someone had managed to tear apart the thin mattress and remove a spring. It was lying discarded on the middle of the floor, bent and useless.

On the wall the words "I'm coming for you Mustang" had been scratched roughly into the plaster. Mustangs' head spun. _Eastwood may be crazy, but he's not an idiot. He has to know that I'd beat him in a straight fight; he has to know that leaving that would result in me being guarded. Why would he warn me? His only chance would be surprise. So why would he warn me? Unless . . . _

"Hughes. Tell me you sent men to Hawkeyes' apartment."  
"No, I didn't. It's a lot harder to get authorisation for overtime for a First Lieutenant than for a Colonel, who happens to be a State Alchemist. Anyway, he's threatening you, not her."  
"And why do you think that is Hughes?! He's playing you!" Mustang yelled, his dark eyes wild with rage and fear "He wanted this – he wanted you to be distracted by me while he went after Hawkeye!"

Hughes turned pale.  
"Get men to her apartment right now! She's vulnerable. She hasn't been to sleep yet tonight – she's running on fumes" Mustang tossed over his shoulder as he climbed back into his car and drove off with a squeal of tires. He wasn't smiling any more. _I should never have taken her home._


	21. Chapter 21

Hawkeye came awake to the sound of a man muttering, which confused her. Hadn't Mustang gone home? She froze when she recognised the voice as Jonathans'. Cracking open one eye, she took in the tray of needles and inks at the same time she registered that she was half naked, the blanket rough against her stomach.

A shiver ran down her spine as she realised what he planned to do. Slowly, she slid her hand under her pillow, her fingers gently inching forward, hoping that her salvation would be there. The Lieutenant hid a smile as her fingers found the comforting leather grip of her favourite pistol.

She lay there, pistol in hand, waiting for him to come back into her field of vision. It took all her willpower to stay still when she felt his hands run softly over her back as if he were seducing a lover. Finally, he moved around the bed to stand in front of the tray.

Hawkeye fired without taking the time to aim, rolled off the bed and ran. She ran out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She ran through the kitchen, knocking chairs over behind her in an attempt to impede his pursuit. She grabbed a jumper from over the back of her chair and fired behind her again. A shout of pain told her she'd hit, but she didn't hang around to see where. She could only hope it was enough to slow him down.

She ran down the stairs, hoping the noise had begun to raise the alarm for her. Hawkeye pushed her way through the front doors, holding the jumper to her chest – there was no way she was running around outside half naked.

Looking desperately up and down the street for someone, _anyone_, who could help, her heart soared as she recognised the dark haired man getting out of a car on the other side of the street. Barely taking a moment to make sure she wouldn't get run over, she ran to him. To safety.

"Sir! It's Eastwood! He's not at Command! He's here – he was waiting for me, sir, and now he's chasing me but I think I hit him at least once."  
Roy put his hands on her shoulders, suddenly painfully aware that she was topless.  
"Lieutenant! Calm down!" he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders just as Hughes' men started arriving.

The officers fanned out in a semi-circle around Hawkeyes' front door with guns in hands, as Eastwood came stumbling out. Mustang shoved Hawkeye behind him into the backseat of his car and slipped on the ignition glove he kept in his glove box. He relaxed slightly as he took in the large bloodstain spreading across the front of the slimeballs' shirt. _Gut shot. He'll be lucky to get across the road, never mind attack anyone. She hit him alright. _

"Well if it isn't the Golden Boy! I can see why you like here so much Roy. She's just _gorgeous_." Eastwoods voice was high and weak, yet Mustang heard every word. He held up a notebook. "I got what was left of the research. There wasn't much left – you really were thorough . . ."

Eastwood collapsed on the steps and was swarmed by Hughes' men.  
"Sir? Did I kill Jonathan?"


	22. Chapter 22

Roy turned. Exhaustion and the adrenaline crash were doing Hawkeye no favours. Her face was pale and her eyes were almost swallowed by dark circles. In all the commotion, she had somehow managed to get her jumper on, although she still had his leather jacket wrapped around her.

"I think you might have done. One of your shots hit him in the gut."  
"Oh" she said quietly. Just _Oh_, nothing more.

Mustang sent Hughes a look of apology as he approached him for the second time that night.  
"I need to ask the Lieutenant a few questions. Is she capable of answering?"  
"I'm perfectly able to answer your questions Major Hughes" she replied from behind Mustangs' broad back, keeping her voice strong and clear as a bell.

They held the interview, such as it was, in the Mustangs' car. Hughes was in the front passenger seat and Hawkeye and Mustang were in the back.

"Lieutenant, I'm going to need your gun."  
"What? Why?" Hawkeye tightened her grip on the pistol, drawing it away from Hughes. She cradled it in both hands as if it were her first-born child, eyes wide at the thought of having to give it up. With a silent sigh Mustang gently grasped her left hand, peeling her fingers away from the barrel of the gun. With his other hand, he grasped her chin and turned her to face him.

"It's ok, Lieutenant. Eastwood's gone down. He can't hurt anyone. You don't need this gun right now. You need to give it to Major Hughes." He said calmly, black eyes warm with affection and support. Slowly, so very slowly, Hawkeye offered the gun to Hughes while keeping her wide eyes on his face, using him as her anchor now she was giving up her precious, life saving pistol.

"Thank you Lieutenant. Now can you tell me what happened tonight?" Hughes asked gently, realising that for all her protests, Hawkeye wasn't quite ok. She nodded, taking a deep breath and shifting her gaze to Hughes.

"He was waiting for me. I walked up the stairs, and Hayate started growling at a shadow. I turned, and I saw someone, but I wasn't fast enough. He injected me with something before I could even draw my pistol. When I woke up, I was on my bed and I could hear him muttering. I wasn't wearing my shirt anymore and he- he had a tray, with needles and ink on it." She looked again to Mustang for reassurance, for he understood her aversion to such things. He squeezed her hand gently.  
"It's ok Hawkeye. He didn't do anything. I saw your back and it's clean. I promise. There aren't any new tattoos for you to carry. You're clean."

She nodded hesitantly, squeezing his hand back.  
"I reached under my pillow, and I found my gun. He musn't've known I kept one there. And then I waited for him to come into my line of sight." She turned to Mustang again "Are you sure that my back's clean sir? I felt him touch me – are you sure?" She asked him desperately, panic rising in the back of her throat and curling in her belly.

"Do you trust me, Hawkeye?" His voice was as smooth as caramel and soft as silk.  
"Yes sir. Always." Her voice was scratchy with restrained panic and unshed tears.  
"Then trust me now" he said calmly, cupping her cheek in his hand.

Hughes awkwardly cleared his throat, struck again by the thought that he was intruding on a private moment.  
"What did you do once you could see him?"  
"I shot at him and I ran. I ran as fast as I could. When I got outside, I saw the Colonel getting out of his car, so I ran over to tell him Eastwood was here. But he wasn't surprised . . . and then you showed up with your men. Why are you here? How did you know to come?"

"I've got enough for now. I'll leave you two to fill in the details for each other." Hughes climbed out the car, striding over to where Eastwoods' body lay slowly staining the pavement red.


	23. Chapter 23

Mustang let go of her hand and Riza had to restrain herself from reaching for it again. She was just too damn tired for this. She was barely awake now that the adrenaline had worn off.

"You can stay at mine tonight. Hughes'll need your apartment for a few hours at least." Mustang said quietly as he moved to the front seat. She was too close. No, that wasn't right; he was letting himself get too close to her. It didn't help that she'd looked at him like he was some sort of white knight when she'd sprinted across the road to him. He tiredly pulled away from the curb, resigning himself to an uncomfortable night on the sofa.

"Thank you for being here sir" Hawkeye murmured sleepily before nodding off on the backseat.  
Roy looked at her, leaning against the window, the passing streetlights turning her hair into a golden halo and smiled. He'd always thought she looked sweet when she slept. It made a change from fierceness and independence and glaring down the barrel of a gun.

He parked the car and gently picked her up, trying not to wake her. He was already in his living room when she stirred. She started thrashing like a woman possessed. Mustang dropped his Lieutenant as gently as he could into his sofa.

"Lieutenant! It's me! It's Colonel Mustang!"  
Her thrashing stopped and she looked at him through bleary eyes, sitting up and looking around.  
"Sorry sir. I forgot where I was for a minute."  
"It's perfectly understandable. You go take my bed. You need it more."  
"But, sir-"  
"That's an order Lieutenant."  
"Yes sir."  
He watched her walk away from him with a tired shuffle instead of the familiar confident stride.

The sobbing woke him. He peered across the room, just making out the time. _4am should be illegal._ Another sob floated down the corridor from his bathroom. He levered himself off the sofa and headed off to face down his Lieutenants' demons.

Riza sat on the edge of the bathroom, scratching desperately at her back as the tears flowed. Roy couldn't remember the last time she'd looked so despondent. Unless you counted Ishval. They'd all been despondent in Ishval. She looked up, noticing him in the doorway.

"I can feel him touching me." she confessed hoarsely, her eyes deep pits of despair. "I feel so . . . violated."  
"Trying to scratch your back off is not the way to deal with that." He sighed, cursing the slimeball to eternal damnation "Let me see."

Wordlessly, Riza turned and removed her jumper. Roy winced at the mess they'd made of her. His scars stood out, but her bloody scratches were bolder. The template for Eastwoods' tattoo was across her back. _Mustangs' whore, huh? Bloody idiot never did have an original thought in his head. _

"I'm going to clean you up, ok?"  
She nodded.  
He wet a cloth in the sink and gently began to clean off the cruel words of a man who could never have understood what they were to each other. He wiped away the blood, and ran his hands gently up her back, trying to erase the unwanted touch of Jonathan Eastwood. He felt her shiver and grinned.

"Cold, Lieutenant?"  
"No sir." She paused "Sir, how did you know to come back?"

"When I got back here, Hughes was waiting for me. Eastwood had left a threat against me, to draw attention away from you. When I realised, I high-tailed it back to yours." He huffed out a quiet laugh. "But you'd already looked after yourself just fine. You completely ruined my chance to be a knight in shining armour."  
"Sorry sir."  
"I'm sure I'll have other chances. Stay here; I'll go grab you a shirt."

With Hawkeye decent once more and tucked into bed, he turned to leave for the relative discomfort of the sofa. Her hand reached out to grab his arm, just like she had at Central Command. Mustang turned back toward the bed, looking at her with regret.

"I can't stay tonight, Lieutenant. I don't trust myself to keep my distance right now."  
"I trust you. Please, sir. I can't cope with being alone tonight."  
Cursing himself for being such a pushover, he climbed into bed with her. Roy let her settle on his chest and tried not to think about how good she felt. After a few minutes, she spoke

"You do have self control after all sir."  
"You sound surprised." She felt his laugh through his chest. "Besides, I'd be taking advantage. It wouldn't be right of me to try anything after what you've been through tonight."

"As I said sir, I trust you. Always."  
"Going soft on me Hawkeye?" He looked down at her with a grin.  
"Never sir. But, you do make a pretty good knight ."

They drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, holding firm against the nightmares and the demons that came in the dark.

**end**

**a big thank you to everyone who's read and followed this story, an extra thanks if you favorited or reviewed. I apologise for the rather weak ending but I've been struck by the twin curses of exams and writers' block.**


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